Harry Potter and the Tales of Debauchery
by Project Aphex
Summary: After Harry killed Voldemort he lived a life of fun and promiscuity with his best friend, George Weasley. But after he accidentally screws a cosmic time-travelling dictator, he and George get sent back in time to the age of ten to do life all over again. What mayhem can these marauders cause with their future knowledge? Powerful!Harry Young!Twins HarryxAll Grey!Harry Dark Undertone
1. The Sexy Cosmic Dictator

AN: In here George and Harry never married or had kids, just had long-term relationships which ended, and they're around 25.

Disclaimer: This is a parody of J.K Rowling's works.

* * *

AN: In here George and Harry never married or had kids, just had long-term relationships which ended.

Harry's life was pretty awesome after Voldy had popped his clogs. There were still a few groups of Death Eaters running around, but they didn't tend to do much without their master. Not to mention nobody really wanted to fuck with "That-Bloke-Who-Killed-Voldemort". He and Ginny broke up years ago, and he could go into any bar in the Wizarding world, get free drinks, and seduce pretty much any woman on the premises. After years of taking shit far too seriously, Harry James Potter was living the life of a Marauder. But then that all changed on one September night when he met a woman, drinking alone at the Three Broomsticks.

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, taking the stool next to her and waving over Madam Rosmerta.

"Well, I WAS having a drink without being harassed by womanising scoundrels, Potter." She said in a heavy Russian accent, a slight smirk on her face. She had unusual yellow eyes and dark brown hair, which flowed down to her shoulders. She wasn't particularly wearing fashionable wizard clothing, but she was still fairly attractive nonetheless. What was strange though, is that she was wearing a Ushanka with a hammer and sickle badge pin.

Harry raised his eyebrows at the eccentric choice in headgear, but shook it off and let out a light chuckle. "I see my reputation precedes me." He picked up the shot of Firewhiskey that Rosmerta poured him and raised it into the air. "A toast; To being hit on by womanising scoundrels."

She shot him a playful glare. "I thought you'd be more serious."

"Nah, that was my godfather." He joked, nudging her arm with a playful grin.

"Oh dear lord." She laughed, raising her palm to her face. "Well, for someone who managed to defeat one of the most evil and powerful dark lords of all time, I thought you'd have better things to do than hit on women in bars."

"Oh I certainly I have better things to do. You're at the top of my list." He gave her a seductive smirk and winked.

"You're atrociously corny, you know?" She laughed, her cheeks slightly red.

"Meh, it works. I've had too much shit happen to me to be too serious. I much prefer to live the life of Harry Potter; the handsome, philanthropic and eccentric playboy than Harry Potter; the miserable dullard, metaphorically soiling himself in the corner of life."

"Well, I'll certainly drink to that!" She exclaimed before downing a rather full glass of a strong-smelling clear liquid and smiled.

"You're one hell of a drinker!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"You get used to vodka back in Russia." She said, dismissing his concern.

* * *

Harry lit another cigar as he lay in bed with the woman from the bar. She had long drifted off to sleep with her head on his chest, her dark brown hair messy and ruffled. But Harry didn't tend to fall asleep after his one-night-stands. Despite the fact that Voldemort was dead and his Death Eaters seemed to be gone, sometimes he still woke up screaming from nightmares. Nothing really freaks out a girl more than that. So he slowly and carefully tried to move her head from his chest. "I vil do et for mother russia..." She mumbled, making harry stop in his tracks. Once he had realised that she was talking in a vodka-induced sleep, he went to move her head again when the strangest thing happened. Her hair started to shrink. In fact, her whole body seemed to be changing. Instead of slim and slender, she began to grow stocky and well-built, Her face grew older and her hair grew grey. But by far the worst feature was the giant moustache that sprouted under her nose. There, laying on Harry's stomach sound asleep was Joseph Stalin. Harry immediately screamed and bolted out the room, not even bothering to put on any clothes.

"I JUST HAD SEX WITH JOSEPH STALIN!" He cried before apparating to the Potter Estate, where he cried himself to sleep.

Harry woke up in his bed let out a mighty yawn. Luckily for him, he didn't remember a thing from that night. After performing a hangover charm and getting dressed, he checked the clock on the mantle of his marble fireplace. "10 minutes..." He mumbled under his breath, the charm seemed to take quite a while to have an effect. He proceeded to consume his body weight in bacon, the best hangover cure, and then apparated to an old airfield in Scotland where he met up with his old friend, George Weasley. He and George stopped talking for a couple of years after the whole Voldemort ordeal was over, but they became friends after they met at the Three Broomsticks a few years later (they were both accidentally pulled the prank on the same person, of course). From then on they were inseparable. Usually they'd have both been together hitting on women, but it was George's birthday yesterday and after the two of them partied for a while, (and royally pissed off some rather influential purebloods) he wanted some time alone with his brother. George was never the same after his brother died. He had a long-term relationship with Angelina Johnson, but that ended a few years ago too. After what both he and Harry lost, they had some pretty deep-rooted problems that even booze and promiscuity couldn't fix.

Once Harry was spat out of the evil-teleporting-tube-of-death and landed in a crumpled pile on the road below him, he was greeted by a jovial redhead who was practically bouncing with excitement. "Alright there Harry! You're going to love this." George took something out of his pocket and carefully placed it onto the nearby tarmac. He pulled out his wand and proceeded to enlarge the object to its normal size.

"That's..." Harry's voice trailed off in awe.

"Yes. Yes it is." George nodded as he too admired the majestic object in front of them.

An Apache helicopter, complete with loaded guns stood in front of the twosome. It was painted in Gryffindor colours, with "The-Boy-Who-Kicked-Ass" in gold writing along its body. Harry's jaw was hanging open, and for a while he was speechless. Whatever George was planning it do, it was certainly going to be the best prank of all time. "How... How did you get a bloody apache!?" Harry shouted, shaking with excitement.

George smirked and patted the side of the machine. "I know people in high places, old friend." He checked his watch and started laughing. "How about we pay Hogwarts a visit? There's a Quidditch match on later today."

"Imagine how much we'd piss off old McGonagall! But do you even know how to fly a helicopter?" Harry said, still trying to get over the fact that George had managed to acquire a Apache.

George shrugged. "It can't be too difficult. We managed to fly the Anglia, so why not this?" He answered nonchalantly.

Harry knew this was both the worst and best idea they've ever had, but they'd been in much more dangerous situations before. "So, who's driving?"

"Shall we flip for it?"

"Sure." Harry pulled out a sickle from his pocket and flipped the coin high into the air, where it exploded into bright red sparks in the shape of an ear. "Bollocks!" Harry exclaimed, kicking the dirt beneath him. "Best of three?"

George whooped loudly and jumped into the air. "No way Little Harrikins, I won this one fair and square."

"Whatever. Let's go." Harry huffed. He ALWAYS got the good ones.

They opened the metal monstrosity's doors and climbed inside, admiring the hundreds of different dials and switches. "I'm almost glad I didn't win. I wish you the best of luck not getting us killed, Your Holeyness."

Even George looked a little nervous at the complexity of the dials. "Erm... I'm sure most of them are just for show. This'll be a piece of cake." He said, his voice uncharacteristically sheepish. After a few minutes of him looking at the dials and switches, he turned to Harry and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Do you know how to turn this thing on?"

* * *

Eventually they managed to take off, and after a rather shaky start, they were soon soaring across the Scottish countryside. They had the ingenious idea of using the 'point me' spell to find their way to Hogwarts, and had stumbled across the train-tracks that the Hogwarts Express took to get to Hogsmeade. After an hour of flying, they finally caught a glimpse of Hogwarts castle. Scaring the living hell out of every citizen of Hogsmeade, they flew over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor and Slytherin were in a heated game as the giant metal beast descended onto the pitch, to the many screams of students who had never seen a helicopter before.

They were around a hundred feet from the ground when Harry shouted "Hey, George, I'm going to jump!"

George turned around and looked at him like he was crazy. "You're going to what?!" But before he could talk him out of his terrible idea, he leaped from the helicopter's doors and fell towards the ground. Harry was laughing whilst he plummeted to the ground until he realised he was falling a bit faster than he expected. But, before he reached a very flat end, he managed to accio one of the Slytherin's brooms and mounted it in midair. He was meters from the ground when he shot up and did a ring around the Quidditch pitch, to the cheers of all the students. By the time Harry had finished his victory lap, George had landed the chopper. Harry flew down to meet him and they high-fived. "Harry! You scared the shit out of me!" George managed to say between laughs. But a deafening screech from the castle silenced the two laughing young men.

"POTTER! WEASLEY! YOU'VE TAKEN IT TOO FAR THIS TIME!" Minerva McGonagall was running towards them at a speed they didn't think was possible for a woman of her age. The terrible twosome looked at each other.

"Do you think she knows?" George asked with a smirk.

"I think she knows." Harry answered. "We should probably go!" The two bowed to the laughing crowd and scrambled back into the helicopter. But as they started to take off again, there were distant screams coming from Hogsmeade. All laughter came to an abrupt end and everyone quickly looked to the source of the screams to see something nobody would've expected. A very large group of Death Eaters, all running towards the castle. After the death of he-whose-name-must-be-hyphenated, the wards and security of hogwarts was rather lax. One could almost hear Mad-eye stirring in his grave.

"Shit, Death Eaters." Harry cursed, climbing out of the helicopter and bringing out his wand. He cast a Sonorus charm on himself. "Everyone make your way back to the castle!" He shouted to the crowd, his voice commanding and stern. Although Harry's skills were rusty, nobody ever forgets being a leader and a fighter. The students all scrambled and ran back to the castle as the teachers drew their wands and started firing curses at the attackers.

"Harry, get inside!" George shouted at him from the chopper. Harry didn't know what he was planning, but he trusted him with his life. He got inside the chopper immediately and George fired up the engines. "Mount the cannons, Harrikins! Our beast shall taste combat today!" Harry put on the headphones and took the gun controls in his hands. He'd played enough Muggle video games with George to know where this was going. They raised the helicopter into the air and Harry took aim at the swarm of Death Eaters who were currently gaping at the machine. "Open fire." George's voice on the intercom was cold and harsh, but now wasn't the time for fun and games. Harry pulled the trigger and they started mowing down the Death Eaters by the dozen. Many tried to escape just to be stunned or blasted by the Hogwarts staff. But the remaining death eaters weren't idle. They were rapidly firing curses at the giant machine, all of which Fred was narrowly dodging. All the time he spent as a Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was difficult to apply to a giant hunk of metal, but it didn't count for nothing. Harry managed to mow down almost all of the Death Eaters when disaster struck. A well-aimed Blasting curse to the tail rotor sent them spiralling out of control and straight into the crowd of masked buffoons. Their life passed before their eyes. Were they going to die here? After Voldemort was finally killed, they were going to die by the hands of his minions? The helicopter crashed straight into the last group of Death Eaters, wounding or killing the last of them. Harry and George's bodies were never recovered.

* * *

When Harry awoke he was stranded in darkness. Was this it? Was he finally dead? His questions were answered by a kick to his gut which sent him curling into a ball. "Ouch! Shit, that hurt!" He shouted into the abyss.

"Open your eyes, you bloody fool." A strangely familiar voice commanded. Harry opened his eyes but immediately wished he hadn't. He was back in King's Cross Station again.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, not again." He sighed. It always had to happen to him. Why couldn't he die like a normal bloody person?

"It's your fault you're here, you know?" Harry turned around to look at whoever was talking to him, but that's when things got even more strange. In front of him was the least person he could possibly expect. Joseph Stalin.

"W-Wait but... Why the hell are you in my Limbo?! " Harry stuttered, utterly confused. He could swear he remembered his face from something recent and traumatic, but he couldn't remember for the life of him what it was.

"Greetings, Potter!" He spat. " I'm here to punish you." His arms were crossed and there was a very disgruntled expression on his face.

"What? Why? I killed Voldemort, I saved as many people as I could! What did I do?" Harry spluttered indignantly.

"You left me on a one night stand! ME! Joseph fucking Stalin!" He screamed at him, his face turning purple with rage.

It all flooded back to him, the flirting, the Russian chick, the ushanka, the crazy sex they had... "N-N-No... That was just a dream... Just a dream..." Harry curled up into a ball and fell over onto his side. "I did not have sex with a polyjuiced Joseph Stalin."

"Yeah kid, you did. But, if it makes you feel any better it was a forfeit for losing a bet. Living life as a nigh-omnipotent time travelling cosmic dictator with a luxurious moustache gets boring without gambling. But after the night we had... Well... I thought we had something special, okay?" He said, deflating a little.

"What do you mean 'I thought we had something special'!" Harry cried, deeply traumatised by the fact he had hot, sweaty sex with a murderous dictator. "You were polyjuiced as an attractive girl! How could you think that we had something special if the foundation of our one-night-stand was based on a complete lie!"

"That's aside from the point!" He shouted in righteous indignation. "Anyway, let's just get on with the task in hand, Harry Potter, for humping and dumping me you are hereby sentenced to be sent back to the age of ten. You will have to do EVERYTHING again. I mean, everything. But, I'm not a cruel and evil dictator-" Harry stifled a laugh, but luckily Joseph did not notice "-so I will give you a bit of help. Firstly, I will put your friend George and his deceased brother at the same age as you. Secondly, I will let little Georgie keep all of his memories until he died. Thirdly, I will appear every now and then to give you helpful tips and hints, and finally I will give you a tome that includes an incredible amount of useful information, including the antidote to those magic-limiting seals that dumbledore put on you when you were younger."

"What?! You're making me do it all over again?! This isn't punishment, it's torture!" Harry cried. He'd have to be 10 years old! He couldn't even consider getting laid for five whole years!

"Well, it's not too bad to be honest, you can always change the past, so you could try to save those friends of yours from their untimely deaths. You don't even have to worry about paradoxes since they just tend to sort themselves out, really." Stalin explained, his anger dissipating.

"B-But... Well... I guess you have a point there. I could have so much more fun back in the old days, think of how much I could screw with the Wizarding world with my future knowledge! But what were you saying about magic-limiting seals?" Harry asked, extremely curious.

"Well, it was a piece of poor judgement and idiocy by old Dumbles. When you were a child, he put magic-limiting seals on you, just in case you ever ran away from home. He thought it was a brilliant idea because it hit two birds with one stone; It disguised you from enemies and it made sure that you wouldn't do any magic in front of your relatives. Of course, when he heard about your accidental magic episodes he guessed that the spell just wore off over time, but in reality it was never gone. You've been using a minuscule amount of your true power because of this. Luckily for you, you might be able to survive the magical energy transition at the age of 10. You certainly wouldn't be able to now, you'd literally explode."

"Why the hell would that happen?" Harry interrupted, his voice shaky and worried.

"I was just getting to that, you imbecile. Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, your magical core developed and grew with what it had access to for you be able to do magic, but it also caused your unused parts of your core to grow, therefore multiplying your magical core by a hundredfold. You were powerful as a child before, don't get me wrong, but lets just say you could REALLY fuck shit up if you wanted to. Chernobyl style. So, I'll also throw in a controllable power limiting seal of your own." He explained casually. It infuriated Harry how he could tell someone they had a ridiculous amount of power like it was just another day for him, but for all Harry knew, it could be.

"That's pretty hard to swallow... I've been THAT powerful for all these years..." Harry's voice trailed off in wonder, but he quickly realised an even more important question. "Also, why are you, Joseph Stalin, a nigh-omnipotent time-traveller, meddling in the affairs of mortals? What was with the whole 'murder a literal shit-ton of people in Russia' kind of thing?"

"Well, to be honest, you end up getting kind of bored of life when you're immortal. I've lived for so long, it's just more fun having little living playings that like to think they rule the place. Also, the whole Russia thing was done on a bet too, although I didn't particularly do much of the murdering. That was mostly my human subordinates. I had much more fun things to do instead of playing 'war'. But, since I lost the bet, I have to take this form and accent for the next 500 millennia." He explained, getting angry at the mention of the bets.

"You should probably stop gambling." Harry advised, he himself wasn't particularly a saint, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to have such high-stakes bets.

"I can read your thoughts you know." He said, a slight edge to his voice. Harry noticed and visibly gulped. "But, enough chit-chat. It's time for you to descend into the realm of mortals. I'll be watching, don't worry." Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Stalin simply clicked his fingers and Harry felt the ground fall from underneath him. He fell for hours through pulsating psychedelic tunnels, twisting and turning through the very fabric of space itself, until eventually he was spat out straight into a whitewashed wall. Harry groaned and pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off his ridiculously large clothes. He started to wonder where the hell he was when his question was answered by a shout from below. "Keep the fucking noise down, boy!"

"Oh, **fuck.**" Harry spat, cursing his bad luck.

He was back in Privet Drive.

* * *

Author's Messages:

Hey everyone, I plan to make this pretty damn funny if I follow through with it all. The more reviews, follows and favourites I get, the more motivated I'll be to progress in this fanfiction. Thanks for reading, and I truly hoped you enjoyed my work. Now, for some of the alternate names I came up with for this fanfic before choosing Tales of Debauchery.

Old Harry's Game.

Harry Potter and the Long and Erotic Journey to Self Discovery.

Harry Potter and the Cosmic Sexy Stalin.

Harry Potter and the Pendant of Promiscuity.

Harry Potter and the Shameless Sex Scene.

Harry Potter and the Explosive Time-Travelling Foreskin.

Harry Potter and the Half-Drunk Bottle Of Vodka.


	2. Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Wandlessly

Last Chapter

_He fell for hours through psychedelic tunnels, twisting and turning through the very fabric of space itself, until eventually he was spat out straight into a whitewashed wall. Harry groaned and pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off his clothes, which were much too big for him now. He started to wonder where the hell he was when his question was answered by a shout from below. "Keep the fucking noise down, boy!"_

"_Oh, shit." Harry spat, cursing his bad luck._

_He was back in Privet Drive._

* * *

Harry couldn't believe he forgot about '_them'._Those disgusting, wretched creatures were the fault of many of his insecurities and his stunted growth. Now he was back with them. Harry carefully made his way downstairs, having to try his hardest not to trip and fall. Getting sent back to the age of 10 certainly had its drawbacks, the main one of these was that he was now four and a half feet tall, and had tiny, tiny hands. Not to mention tiny _other areas._

Harry walked into the kitchen and started making himself a sandwich. Hurtling through the time-vortex at ten bazillion metres per second seemed to make him slightly peckish. "All hail the neverending glory of tuna," he mumbled to himself as he fused the two slices of soft white bread together in holy matrimony with tuna, the overlord of sandwich fillings. One could almost see a halo appear on the delicious little bundle as he carefully placed it on a small plate.

"What are you doing down here, _boy_?" A gruff, nasal voice came from behind Harry. The voice was lined with so much hatred and resentment, something snapped in him.

"I'm making myself a sandwich, _Vernon_. I assume you smelt food and came running, like the giant pig-shaped half-digested sack of rotten lard you are." Harry spat. There was no way in Merlin's saggy ballsack Harry was going to bow down to these fucks this time.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?" Vernon roared, his fat face turning purple with rage. His ham-sized fists were white and shaking. His overall anal clench probably exceeded the mass of a neutron star. Before Harry could reply with another witty remark, the whale of a man picked up the fridge and raised it over his head.

"IZAYA!" He screamed, throwing the fridge at Harry. The scene was akin to Donkey Kong throwing a barrel at Mario, which brought a small internal chuckle to Harry. He supposed he should be more afraid there was a fridge flying towards him, but he knew the ape's attack was useless. Years of playing Seeker and fighting the scariest motherfucker to grace the Wizarding world (not Ollivander, the other one) had trained his reflexes to the point where he could catch a fly with a midget's chopsticks. Harry dodged out of the way in a second and brought some divine retribution upon the oversized piggy in the shape of a kitchen chair to his noggin.

"What's going on in here!" The screech from the living room broke Harry out of his battle-trance. His aunt Petunia burst through the door, her horse-like mouth wide with shock. Harry realised that he couldn't stay here any more. He pushed past her and slammed the door of his cupboard under the stairs.

Harry sat on his bed and thought about what to do next. He couldn't summon the Knight bus since he didn't have his wand yet, so he'd have to get a bus to Diagon Alley. But that's all the way in London, and he didn't have any money for the bus fares. He could Floo there from Mrs. Figg's house, but then again she was one of Dumbledork's devoted little minions, so he'd have to break in. Harry didn't want the old man onto his actions yet. She might have wards, but it was a risk he'd have to take. He'd disguise himself and once he'd Floo'd to Diagon alley, he could make his way to Gringotts and have a meeting with the Goblins to check if there were any tracking programs on his vault and get them removed. Then, he could buy a shit-ton of supplies, including his wand. Once he'd got all that done, he could make his way into Knockturn Alley and see if he could buy some cool stuff from there. After all this was done, he could Floo to The Burrow and regroup with George.

Once he'd fleshed out his plan, he gathered his meagre possessions and packed them into his decaying old school bag. Harry stood up to leave and as he was about to open the cupboard's door, a hole appeared in the wall. Harry immediately recognised the inside of the hole to be the Time Vortex he travelled through to get here. He peered into the Untempered Schism and immediately knew something was wrong. Very wrong. It felt as if he was the sole being alive in the universe, as if he was all that was left when everything else had faded. Suddenly, his worries evaporated. It was all so clear now, that noting mattered. He could see the beginning, the end and all that is inbetween. All of his worries, problems and cares seemed so... Futile. Pointless. It was inspiring. He felt as if he'd just shedded his skin. He felt new. He felt better. Oh so, so much better. He could've been stood there for minutes or years for all he knew. His current place in time meant nothing to him. Suddenly, an object flew straight out of the hole and smashed into Harry's face with a resounding crunch. Harry released a groan of pain and clutched his poor nose. "Fucking bollocks!" He shouted, kicking the wall in front of him. He searched around for the offending object and came across a thick, dusty tome the size of a dictionary. Still clutching his nose with his left hand, he picked the book up from the floor and turned it around to look at the cover. There, clumsily adhered to the front, was a post-it-note.

_To Harry_

_Sorry, I forgot to give you this. What you see on these pages is merely a contents list. You speak aloud to the book what you want to research about, and the pages will turn themselves into information about that topic. For example, if I wanted to know about horse dildos, I'd say: "Information on Horse Dildos" to the book. To turn the book back to the contents page, just say "Contents". I'd request how to break monitoring charms first of all so you don't have those pesky ministry laws to abide by. Good luck!_

_P.S: I hope you didn't stare into the hole where this came from. For your sake._

_- Joseph Stalin -_

_x__o__x__o__x_

Harry snatched the note from the book and tore it into shreds before sitting back down on his bed and opening it. He warns me about the hole now? It can't have been bad since he felt so much better now. He WAS so much better now. Harry wondered what to research before he left. He didn't have any supplies or his wand yet, so his options were low. But, he had an idea on how to repair his mangled nose.

"Information on Wandless Magic." He said to the tome. He felt rather silly talking to an inanimate object, but sure enough the tome's text changed to information on the skill.

- Wandless Magic -

_Wandless Magic is an ability that less than 1% of the world's magical population can even successfully attempt. This is largely because one has to have an affinity from birth for the skill and very high magical reserves to actually perform it. Whereas with Wand-based magic one's magical core is automatically exerted through the wand with no manual effort, Wandless magic requires the skill to channel one's magical core throughout your arms and hands which requires intense willpower and mental stability. To effectively perform Wandless magic, one must draw their magical energy from their core into their left arm and gather the power there, and then transfer the power into their right arm to channel the magic through their hand. Wandless magic can be done with both hands, but this is the most effective and efficient method. To perform Wandless magic one must focus on what effect the spell will have and visualise it perfectly before physically altering the world itself with their magic. Therefore, the more an individual understands about the specific spell they're casting, the more effective it will be. Wands negate this problem because one channels their magic through the core of the wand, which is a part of a magical beast. Magical beasts are all born with innate magic control throughout every fibre of their beings. Therefore it uses the magical beast's innate control over magic with the wizard/witch's magical core to produce the spell. _

_Occlumens will find this skill easier than those who do not, since they can control their concentration and magical core much more effectively. The main problem with Wandless magic though, is the fact that wizards do not have strong enough Magical Cores. To those untrained in Wandless Magic it is extremely inefficient and can leave users with "Magical Exhaustion". Magic done through wands focuses one's Magical Energy through an object so it is easier to control the amount of magic used. The wand works as a tap to stop water from gushing out uncontrollably. To those inexperienced at Wandless Magic, they cannot control the amount of magic used. Therefore their magic would be gushing out even from a simple spell._

_Now you know the risks, here is a short guide on how to start practising Wandless Magic. An in-depth guide wouldn't be possible, because it can be severely different for different wizards. But, there is the same basic foundries to all styles of Wandless Magic._

_Step 1: Find your Magical Core. This will be extremely difficult without Occlumency._

_Step 2: Focus your Magic into your left arm and transfer it through into your right arm. You should feel warm and tingly where you pass the magic through._

_Step 3: Gather your magic at the palms of your hands._

_Step 4: Focus on the effect your spell will have._

_Step 5: Push your magic outwards and vocalise the spell's incantation if necessary._

Harry read through the text, absorbing all the information on the pages. Luckily he was proficient at occlumency (once he stopped having his mind nightly raped by a dark lord it was actually very easy for him to learn) but doubted he had the affinity for the magic. He put his right hand over his nose and focused on his magical core. He could feel the warm buzz of his magic in his chest, and he gradually willed the magic so it collected into his left arm and then transferred it into his right arm. He pushed the warm, tingly feeling into his palm and fingers. He focused on what he wanted to happen, and finally pushed the magic through his hand. Without even having to say the spell's incantation his nose cracked back into place. The unexpected noise and pain shocked Harry and he yelped in surprise, hitting his head on the staircase above him. Rubbing the back of his aching cranium, he sat there in awe of himself. He could do it. He could do Wandless magic.

Harry began to wonder what else could he do. Using the same procedure as before he tried to levitate the tome that was currently laid on the bed. Soon enough the tome was levitating in the air with little effort from Harry himself. He couldn't feel any drain on his magic and he could make the object fly around the room for as long as he wanted. He tried to summon the book from the other side of his bed and he could do so with ease. "This is the coolest thing I've ever done!" He exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. He could perform an array of different spells with ease. They were easier to control with a wand, but he could perform spells silently and Wandlessly without too much effort at all. He summoned his bag and the tome and kicked open the cupboard door. It was time to have some well-deserved revenge.

Harry walked into the living room to watch his aunt who was currently trying to drag her twenty-five stone husband on to one of the living room sofas. Dudley was in the corner of the room with his usual vacant expression, although a hint of worry marred his usually blank eyes. Harry raised his hand and levitated the man on to the sofa, much to the horror of his aunt.

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT YOU LITTLE FR-" She screamed, but before she could finish her insult Harry had silenced her. Harry savoured her look of terror before tying her, Dudley and Vernon up with a Wandless 'Incarcerous'. Dudley opened his chubby face-creviceto speak, but Harry silenced him too before he could say a word. He levitated them next to Vernon and summoned a comfortable chair for him to sit on. Somewhere inside him a little voice was telling him that this was wrong, that he shouldn't hurt them. But Harry crushed that thought like the insignificant little thing it was.

"Look how the tables have turned, eh?" he chuckled to himself, cracking his knuckles. "Let's wake up Daddy Pig, first of all." Harry sent a Wandless 'Rennervate' at his uncle, waking him from his unconsciousness. Harry watched the man cough and splutter whilst he wondered why he was tied up. "Not so tough now, are you?" Harry mocked, admiring his handiwork. It took him a few moments, but soon enough he understood the situation he was in.

"YOU LET US GO NOW!" The pathetic man demanded. Although his voice remained loud and commanding, his face was white with fright.

"No… I don't think I will." Harry drawled, walking up to the beast. Vernon opened his mouth to speak but Harry distracted him with a kick to his face. And another. Harry kicked the pathetic man until he felt satisfied the pig had paid the price for his actions. After he was tired of kicking, he crouched to his uncle's level and stared straight into his face. His lip had been burst countless times, his left eye was totally mangled, he was bleeding profusely and was missing over a dozen teeth. Harry lifted his hand to his face and poured the magic through his hand. It was time to end his suffering.

Harry stood up and admired his handiwork. Vernon's face was as good as new, but he was crying profusely. He turned to his other bound relatives. "Are you going to shut the fuck up this time?" He asked them, his voice reduced to a growl. They both nodded slowly, their eyes wide with fear. Harry sat back into his chair and waved his hand at the people before him. They were released from their bindings and their voices returned to them. Dudley and Petunia scurried towards Vernon and cowered beside him.

"You do know I could've killed you all in the most painful way possible. I could've ripped you limb by limb in front of each other and rebuilt you again. I could've done all of this and more. But, I didn't. Do you know why?" He growled, his cold eyes focusing on each of them. "DO YOU KNOW WHY?" He screamed. All the electrical items in the room sparked and smoked. The Dursleys all shook their heads frantically. "The only reason I didn't eviscerate all of you is because the old Fucker would rain on my parade. Not to mention you'd get blood all over my clothes, and I can't have my fun like that, can I?"

Harry stood up and banished his chair before walking to his trembling relatives. He proceeded to stun each of them and Oblivate them of all their memories involving him since the night he was dropped on their doorstep. Harry cleaned up each room of the house and levitated the three of them to their respective bedrooms. Now was for the easy part. Harry went into the cupboard under the stairs and tore out the locks from the doors. He then banished all the contents of the room and returned to the living room. The only place in that house with evidence of his life was in that room, and now it was gone. Harry slung his backpack over his shoulder and took one last look at Privet Drive before he left once and for all.

* * *

George Weasley was having the weirdest dream. He dreamt that he and Harry crashed an helicopter into dozens of Death Eaters, and he was approached by Joseph Stalin in a weird version of The Burrow who simply told him to "Look after that Doofus" before throwing him head-first into a weird, swirly hole. But, luckily for him, things were about to get even weirder. George stirred and stretched when he realised his head hurt like hell. He reluctantly opened his eyes to see something that he would have never expected. There, sat on a chair next to his bed, was a ten-year-old version of his deceased brother, Fred.

"You alright there mate?" Fred asked, looking slightly worried. George didn't know what to think. Was this a dream? Was he in heaven? Hell?

"F-Fred? Am I… Am I dead?" George asked shakily.

"Dead?" George laughed. "You fell down the stairs and bumped your head, but you're certainly not dead."

"W-What? How?" Fred shouted. None of this made sense. How was Fred alive? Some strange shit was going on here, and he knew who would certainly be in the middle of it all. Harry. George sat up in his bed and scrambled to get out only to trip over his own feet on the way out. He looked down at his legs to realise he too was tiny. Why was he in a child's body?

"Woah, George? What's wrong? I'll go and get Mum, you wait here!" Fred said, looking extremely worried now. George's brain was trying to absorb all the insane information around him. He tried to think about what could've happened to put him in this situation. Had the world changed around him, or had he changed? Could it be possible that he, himself, was sent back into his younger body? But if that was the case, he could do life all over again. He could save Fred. Whatever the situation is though, Harry should know. George pulled himself up from the ground and tried to get used to his new, or old, body. He flexed his muscles and sat back down on his bed. Why did all the weird shit revolve around Harry?

* * *

The Harry in question was currently creeping around Mrs Figg's house to detect any signs of life. Luckily for him though, she seemed to be out. Harry disillusioned himself and walked up to her front door and opened it with a wandless 'Alohamora'. He crept inside, trying his hardest not to alert those blasted cats. He made his way through the dusty hall into the dingy living room he remembered from his childhood. Everything seemed at least a decade old and extremely worn. There were dozens of pictures of cats lining the dull, brown walls of the room. Next to the antique coffee table was the fireplace. It was smaller than a normal wizard's fireplace, but it was big enough for Floo travel. Harry searched for the telltale powder and found it in a small aluminium can on the mantelpiece. He placed some notice-me-not charms on himself and used some glamour charms to disguise his features before taking a handful of the fine powder and stepping into the unlit fireplace. "Diagon Alley" He said as he threw the powder at his feet. After a few seconds of horrific magical travel he was spat out of the Diagon Alley Floo Points.

"Are you alright there, dear?" A woman dressed in bright emerald robes asked as she helped him up from the floor.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I've never been good with Magical Travel." He replied, blushing slightly from embarrassment. The woman smiled and walked away leaving Harry to once again admire the sights of a busy day at Diagon Alley. There were shops lining the whole street and hundreds of wizards and witches were milling around them, doing their shopping. Harry noticed the lack of stalls selling gimmicks and toys this time, but he supposed those were mainly used to take advantage of the muggleborn students who could be easily tricked into thinking they were getting a good deal. Harry kept up a quick pace as he made his way through the Alley until he got to the majestic doors of Gringotts. He quickly passed the axe-wielding Goblin guards and made his way to the nearest available Bank Teller.

"Excuse me, I'd like a meeting with my vault manager." Harry asked the permanently sneering Goblin. He'd learnt a fair bit about Goblin etiquette and found out that their sneer is basically their normal face, so it's nothing personal. He also learnt they prefer their clients to get straight to the point without much idle chitchat, but a Goblin greeting can be applied when one is having a long meeting or if you're talking to a familiar Goblin.

"And who would you be, child?" The Goblin asked.

"Harry James Potter." Harry replied. The Goblin's eyes widened in shock, but he pushed a button on a strange Goblin microphone and started talking in Gobbledegook into it. After he finished speaking he gave Harry a small gringotts badge with the letter "V" on it.

"That badge is a portkey which will take you to your meeting room. Say your name and it will transport you there. Have a pleasant day, sir." The Goblin explained. Harry quietly said his name and could immediately feel the tell-tale squeezing of portkey travel. After a few seconds of feeling as if he was spinning through a tiny tube, he was spat out into a pleasant well-lit meeting room with a very old-looking Goblin behind a large mahogany desk.

"Greetings Mr Potter. How can Gringotts help you today?" The goblin said, his hand motioning to the comfortable-looking leather chair in front of his desk. As Harry picked himself up and made his way to the chair and noticed from the golden tag on his uniform the Goblin's name was Stormageddon Axecuddle.

"Good afternoon, Mr Axecuddle. May your gold flow out of every applicable orifice." Harry's knowledge of correct Goblin etiquette shocked Stormageddon. This was a very interesting child indeed.

"I need information about the key to my vault and about any monitoring on this vault. You see, I've been living with muggles, unaware of the Wizarding world until recently and therefore I am unsure of the location of my Gringotts key. I have reason to believe it's in the possession of a certain bearded meddler by the name of Albus-far-too-many-middle-names Dumbledore. Another of my issues is that the aforementioned interfering, wizened git may have put into place some kind of monitoring system to subjugate me into conforming to his perfectly-controlled world. Could you please shed some light on my concerns?"

To say the Goblin before him was shocked was an understatement, but then again who expected a child to be so knowledgeable and charismatic? Harry relaxed back into the chair and a light smirk appeared on his face.

"Well Mr. Potter, I can confirm that your key was given to Mr Albus Dumbledore with the assurance he'd give it straight to you. He explained that your muggle relatives may have took advantage of your vault if the key was delivered by owl." The Goblin explained, frowning slightly at what this boy was implying. Did Dumbledore deny him access to his own vaults?

"Well I certainly haven't been given the key, and as I said before, I didn't know I was a wizard until _very _recently, and I didn't find out through Albus Dumbledore." Harry stated, also frowning. He would have to look into the vault transactions to see if Dumbles did any more 'favours' on his behalf. The leader of the light was looking very questionable indeed, and he could tell that Stormageddon Axecuddle was thinking the same thing.

"Well, if this is the case, we can retrieve your key from whatever location it is at with a simple ritual. It will cost a total of ten galleons, but I'm certain that shouldn't be an issue with the amount you have in your trust account. The main Potter accounts can only be accessed once you're seventeen years of age." The old Goblin explained. Harry knew this of course, but he could see if he could get his account manager on his side of the playing field. As George used to say, he could charm the pants off McGonagall.

"When I'm seventeen? That's horrible. Access to the Potter vaults would give me things from my family. I've never even seen a picture of my father and mother before, and I thought access to the Potter vault would give me some history about my family." Harry replied, feigning sadness with frightening realism. "Are you sure there's no way for me to gain access to the vault? If you could find a way, any way at all, I'd be sure to reward you." The Goblin's eyes lit up at the prospect of earning extra gold, but then sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I know wizarding law inside and out. The only way to gain access to your vaults early is through Magical Emancipation, and it's highly unlikely you'd physically or morally be able do what is required." The Goblin sighed, his chances at earning some Galleons disappearing into the mists. But Harry's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"What methods would these be, Mr Axecuddle?" Harry asked, excitedly.

"Well, you would have to win a Wizard's Duel to the death with a legal adult." The Goblin explained, expecting Harry's excitement to disappear. But he was wrong.

"Really? That's it? And this Emancipation gives me all the same rights as a legal and Magical adult?" Harry asked, more excited than before. This made Stormageddon perform a rare Goblin smile. The child was naive, but he thought like a Goblin. His courage was admirable, but his ruthlessness slightly worrying.

"You wouldn't feel bad about ending a human life?" Stormageddon asked, wondering what the answer could possibly be.

"Two words. Death and Eaters." Harry replied, smirking coldly. For some reason, the prospect of taking a life didn't bother him in the slightest. To Harry's surprise, the Goblin before him let out a hearty laugh which almost shook the room around him. His laughter died down to reveal a full-blown grin on the old Goblin's face.

"You think like a Goblin, child! Your courage is admirable. We Goblins agree that those who murder our kind should get the same in return!" the old Goblin exclaimed. This wasn't the way Harry expected he'd win over the Goblins, but it certainly worked.

"I haven't laughed like that in decades. But we should get back to business." Stormageddon reached down and opened a draw on his desk before pulling out a strange Magical contraption. It had a hand-shaped groove in the metal bottom and a rather nasty-looking needle suspended above it on a pole. The whole machine was carved from top-to-bottom with runes.

"Please place your hand on here Mr Potter. There is a heavy numbing charm placed on the pad, so the operation shouldn't be painful. We will be extracting some of your blood to test your identity and summon your Gringotts vault key." The Goblin explained, a twinkle in his eyes. Harry awkwardly placed his hand in the groove and was waiting to feel the numbing charm when the needle was jammed into the back of his hand, and pulled out again a second after. Harry yelped from the unexpected pain and pulled his hand back to his chest, mentally cursing himself for his childish action.

"There wasn't a numbing charm on there!" Harry shouted. He went to inspect the wound on his poor hand to find there was no wound at all. It had completely healed. The old Goblin let out another small laugh and pulled out another device from one of the draws on his desk. He poured the small vial of blood into some of the runes on this device and pushed a small, black button on its left side. A loud whirring could be heard as it started shaking slightly. But, soon enough, there was a apparition-like pop and a Gringotts key appeared to the left of the machine, dropping on to the table. Stormageddon picked up the key and handed it to Harry.

"There you go, you have access to your trust vault. As an answer to the question you had earlier about vault monitoring, Albus Dumbledore did in fact request monitoring for your vault. But, since you obviously value your privacy and I'm under no legal obligation to inform Mr Dumbledore of your actions, I shall not inform him of any activities or meetings we have." Stormageddon explained. This had Harry grinning like he'd met nymphomaniac twins. The Goblins liked him, and they were one of the best assets possible to have.

"Thank you very much, Mr Axecuddle. But, before I leave, may I have the information about all my vaults and a log of transactions since the death of my parents for all of them, please?" Harry asked, still smiling from the previous exchange.

"Of course." The goblin replied before walking over to a varnished oak filing cabinet and proceeded to remove a file from the cabinet. He flicked through the file's contents and duplicated a few pages. He placed the file back into the cabinet and closed it, then walked back to his desk and handed the papers to the boy in front of him. Harry flicked through the papers and was shocked to the core by the Vault information files.

Accessible Vaults:

* * *

- Vault 687 -

Harry James Potter - Trust Vault

Galleons: 17,382

Sickles: 6

Knuts: 25

Recent Transactions:

- June 27, 1983 -

Albus Dumbledore on behalf of Harry J Potter:

Galleons: 10,000

Sickles: 0

Knuts: 0

- January 16, 1984

Albus Dumbledore on behalf of Harry J Potter:

Galleons: 15,000

Sickles: 0

Knuts: 0

- March 5, 1985 -

Albus Dumbledore on behalf of Harry J Potter:

Galleons: 95,000

Sickles: 0

Knuts: 0

- May 18, 1986 -

Albus Dumbledore on behalf of Harry J Potter:

Galleons: 25,000

Sickles: 0

Knuts: 0

- February 23, 1988 -

Galleons: 78,000

Sickles: 0

Knuts: 0

* * *

Accessible when of age:

* * *

- Vault 438 -

James Potter - Trust Vault

Galleons: 2394

Sickles: 2

Knuts: 16

Recent Transactions:

N/A

* * *

- Vault 27 -

Potter Vault

Galleons: 29,439,293

Sickles: 1

Knuts: 18

Recent Transactions:

N/A

* * *

Contestable Vaults:

* * *

- Vault 19 -

Peverell Vault

Galleons: 12,342,934

Sickles: 4

Knuts: 16

Recent Transactions:

N/A

* * *

- Vault 5 -

Gryffindor Vault

Galleons: 9,293,291

Sickles: 1

Knuts: 3

Recent Transactions:

N/A

* * *

- Vault 2 -

Slytherin Vault

Galleons: 39,294,349

Sickles: 2

Knuts: 1

Recent Transactions:

N/A

* * *

Dumbledore had been stealing from his vaults! He knew the old bastard was manipulative, but to go so far as to steal money from the child you're going to send to death? This is a whole new level of wrong. Another thing too, he didn't have NEARLY as much money in the Potter vault when he was older! Luckily he could stop Dumbledore from stealing millions before it happened. Harry gathered his composure and stammered his reply to the Goblin. "Merlin's beard! Dumbledore has been stealing from my vaults!" The smile disappeared completely from the Goblin's face.

"You're telling me that Albus Dumbledore withdrew your money without your consent?" The Goblin asked, a look of fury in his eyes.

"Yes! It says here that he withdrew the money on my behalf, but I got none of this money! How could he even withdraw it, anyway?" Harry said, acting more outraged than he was. Truthfully he felt relieved that the bastard didn't take money from the main Potter vault yet. Harry always wondered how the old bugger could afford all those lemon drops. But Harry also felt a bit sad, a part of him always held on to the belief he wasn't all bad, just a bit misguided. But this dug Albus into a moral pit no amount of twinkling-eyed smiles could get him out of.

"The ministry registered him as your magical guardian, therefore can remove money on your behalf. He also has a number of other controls over your legal standing, for instance, he controls your Wizengamot seats until you are of age. But, if you believe that he has committed a misconduct, you can perform a simple ritual to change guardians. It costs a fee of 50 Galleons, but could be done right now." The Goblin explained, trying to control his fury at Albus Dumbledore. How dare that old man steal from this boy? Harry quickly agreed, which prompted Stormageddon to press a button on the nearby microphone and speak commands in Gobbledegook into it. A few seconds later, another contraption materialised on Stormageddon's desk.

"I'm afraid we're going to need another blood sample, Mr Potter." The Goblin said, pushing the previous needle machine towards the boy. Harry reluctantly placed his hand into the groove and winced as he felt the sharp jab of the needle into his flesh. The old Goblin took the vial and carefully poured it into a set of runes on the outside of the machine. There was another hand-shaped groove on the machine, and Stormageddon requested the obvious.

"Here goes nothing." He said as he placed his hand on the groove and waited for more pain, but surprisingly there wasn't any.

"Now, Mr Potter, I'd like you to name your preferred magical guardian." The Goblin asked, wondering who on earth the boy would choose.

"My godfather, Sirius Black" The boy stated clearly, to the immense surprise of the Goblin opposite him.

"You are aware that Sirius Black has been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban prison?" The Goblin asked, thoroughly shocked at the boy's choice.

"Yes, I am. I also know he is an innocent man." The boy stated with conviction. Stormageddon merely shook his head and typed the name into the back of the machine. The runes containing Harry's blood started to glow a bright white and the room around them began to shake. How many more surprises did this boy have up his sleeve? After around a minute of glowing and shaking, the ritual came to an end.

"Your magical guardian was deemed suitable by your core and therefore your magical guardian is now Mr Sirius Black." The Goblin said, inwardly smiling at the boy's obvious happiness.

"Thank you. Now, there was something else even more important I wanted to ask you, what does "Contestable Vault" mean, and why are the Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin vaults under this category?" Harry asked, extremely curious of what the answer would be.

"Well Mr Potter, a contestable vault is a vault that belongs to another family that you are the magical heir of, but you must undertake a ceremony devised by these ancient families to determine if you are worthy to become their heir and gain access to their vaults. You are a direct descendent of the Peverells, therefore the Peverell vault is contestable. If we trace back your family tree, you are the last surviving relative of the Gryffindors, therefore that vault is contestable. But, you have no relation to the Slytherin family, which is most peculiar. I can only suspect that you have gained relation to them from your scar, which was given to you by the last heir of Slytherin. Tom Riddle performed the ceremony to gain access the Slytherin vaults, but was found unworthy. If you were able to gain access to the Gryffindor family, Hogwarts Castle and its wards would legally belong to you." The Goblin explained, almost laughing at the shock on the young boy's face. Meanwhile Harry was struggling to process this information. What confused him the most was the fact that Tom Riddle was unworthy of the Slytherin vault. Wasn't he the embodiment of Slytherin ideals? He would have to find out.

"When can I partake in the rituals?" Harry asked, eager to see if he could gain access to the vaults. It wasn't about the money, no. He had more Galleons in the Potter vault to last him many lifetimes. But, he wanted the priceless books and artifacts stored in the vaults. The Goblin shook his head.

"I'm afraid you will have to wait until you're Emancipated or over 17 until you can partake in the ceremonies." He explained. Harry thought as much and sighed in disappointment. But, the bank trip was much more eventful than he anticipated.

"Thank you, Mr Axecuddle, your help has been absolutely excellent." Harry stated, truthfully delighted with the Goblin's help. "But, before I leave, is there any device where I could withdraw money from my vaults when I'm out of Gringotts?" The Goblin seated before him let out one of his seemingly not-so-rare-anymore smiles.

"This option usually costs quite a hefty sum of Galleons, but since you have some... unique money problems, we can waive this sum if you promise to advertise Wizard and Goblin relations. With your influence, you can help alleviate the bigotry of the Wizard is worth far more than Galleons to us. If you actively try and dispel bigots, we are sure Gringotts can be of assistance to you too, Mr Potter. If you help us, we'll help you." The Goblin explained. He was making a large investment in the boy, but he had a fondness for him. He was very Goblin-like in his actions, and with his obvious power and fame, he could be a true ally to the Goblin Nation.

"I will do what is in my power to stop bigotry and promote Goblin and Wizard relations. I always thought the bigotry of the British wizarding community was disgusting anyway." Harry explained. He had the Goblins on his side, this was extremely good.

"Excellent." Stormageddon said, before once again requesting something in Gobbledegook. Soon after he finished, a brown bag about the size of one of Hagrid's hands materialised on the table. The Goblin handed the bag to Harry. "Please place your hand in the bag." Harry did as he was told and a sharp pain told him his blood had been taken yet again.

"Is there going to be any more hand mutilating?" Harry whined, earning a small laugh from the Goblin, who proceeded to ignore him.

"There, you will now be able to remotely summon currency into your bag from wherever you may be. You just have to command the bag to give you the amount you specify, and you will be able to remove this amount of money. The bag is bigger on the inside, and will expand to fit whatever amount you request. It also weighs barely anything, so you shouldn't even notice you have it most of the time." Stormageddon explained. Harry's eyes lit up once again and he thanked the Goblin profusely. Harry couldn't think of any more things he had to do at the bank, and bid farewell to his new Goblin associate putting his ever-useful knowledge of Goblin etiquette into practice. He returned to the entrance of Gringotts using the portkey and landed in a crumpled pile of humiliation once again. But, it didn't hinder his good mood. He had the possibility of access to the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell vaults, he had knowledge of emancipation, he had a magical tome with a ridiculous amount of information in his grasp and he had the Goblins on his side.

Things were looking good for Harry James Potter, and he'd only just begun.


End file.
